


writer in the dark

by allstars



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Heartbreak, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Letters, Lost Bucky Barnes, Lost Love, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 07:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21370231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allstars/pseuds/allstars
Summary: "You gave me hope, and that's the worst thing you could do for a man, because you just took it all from me and now you're gone. Left me with nothing. Left me with myself, that broken man who just want peace. I guess I wasn't born to peace. I was born to war, after all."Or, Bucky Barnes has some things to say about heartbreak.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	writer in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> so lorde's writer in the dark reminds me so much of post endgame bucky that i needed to do something.
> 
> here's that something.

Maybe I should get used to see you go — we were meant to be together but somehow we couldn't. We were meant to be together, just _meant_ to be, because we never really got the chance. There's always something, because our fate is twisted just like that. There's war, there's torture, there's death, there's memories taken away, there's blood and tears. There's someone else.

I've seen and felt horror, I tasted blood, I lost part of me in a field I didn't wanted to be. I didn't wanted to fight. I was terrified. Once or twice I wanted to die right there but I didn't. I needed to come back to your arms. Come home. And it has taken too long, but I made it. Not entirely, but I came back — broken, shattered and ashamed, but I came. I lost part of me, I lost the arm I used to hold you at night, the hand I used to write you letters and poems I never showed to anyone, the fingers I once ran through your hair, the shoulder you cried so many times, but I came back.

Not entirely.

I lost the memories of you holding me so close I thought you were going to kiss me but you never did — we were afraid; I never blamed you. I lost the memories of what if felt like to be James Buchanan Barnes, to look at myself at the mirror and know what I was seeing. I lost my name and myself, I became a soldier of death and took more lives than I allow myself to remember now, but I came back.

I came back and you made me believe everything was going to be alright, that I would be myself again one day. You gave me hope, and that's the worst thing you could do for a man, because you just took it all from me and now you're gone. Left me with nothing. Left me with myself, that broken man who just want peace. I guess I wasn't born to peace. I was born to war, after all.

I was born to horror and I know so much of terror and death but this pain I'm feeling right now ironically doesn't compare to the awful things I know. I never thought a broken heart coule ache like that. I guess it's the pain of not believing anymore.

The pain of another war to fight against my will.

Maybe you're better than me after all. I'm a sinner, hell, I know that very well. I have that burning desire, that fire inside me that made me exist just for you. I lost and found myself for you so many times I can't remember. I wanted to scream your name in the dark. I wanted to touch you so bad, to know all your parts, I wanted to tear you inside out with all my love. I never did. But I'm still a sinner. 

God, I should get used to lose you, so why do I feel like my heart is getting ripped from my chest with your bare hands, _my lover's hands?_

You're doing it with a cold smile on your face and you eyes burn, your touch burns, and to me, you're the devil.

I should have seen it coming.


End file.
